Other People's Children

With this exquisite collection of essays, academic papers, and
articles first published between 1986 and 1993, Lisa Delpit addresses
the original sin, and perhaps fatal flaw, of the progressive movement
in American education: its failure to include, or even hear, the views
and experiences of those outside the white mainstream culture.

This exclusion, which Delpit documents and describes with
painful candor, drawing on both her teaching experience and her
research, lies at the heart of Other People's Children. But the
book's contribution is greater than this. By giving voice to teachers
of color—and through them to children, parents, and entire
communities outside the white middle-class milieu—it brings a
much-needed perspective to the progressive canon.

The first two chapters carry much of this weight. In the first,
"Skills and Other Dilemmas of a Progressive Black Educator," Delpit
recounts her early experiences as a teacher. Working at an alternative
inner-city school in Philadelphia during the 1970s, she tried the
techniques of the open classroom—"the most humanizing of learning
environments"—to benefit her mostly black students. But at the
end of six years, Delpit felt she had failed; she had been successful
only to the extent that she had employed traditional methods.
Nonetheless, she still identified herself as an open-classroom
teacher.

Later, at graduate school, Delpit "readily and heartily embraced" a
progressive approach to literacy teaching known as the "writing
process." She so thoroughly adopted this pedagogy that she was stunned
when a friend and fellow black teacher "adamantly insisted" that it
"was doing a monumental disservice to black children." Although Delpit
initially defended the program, she was later shaken and reminded of
her past failures. Rather than bury her doubts a second time, though,
she began to explore minority-teacher involvement in writing-process
projects. To her surprise, she discovered that most black teachers she
spoke with believed the approach was inappropriate for black students.
And many regarded it as racist and damaging, primarily because it
failed to teach the skills needed to write standard prose—skills
vital to success.

At this point, Delpit began to devise and articulate a new
perspective. This culminated with "Skills and Other Dilemmas," which
was first published in 1986 as an article in the Harvard Educational
Review. In it, she states she has two goals: "to defend my fellow
minority educators at the same time I seek to reestablish my own place
in the progressive educational arena."

"I have come to believe," she writes, "that the 'open-classroom
movement,' despite its progressive intentions, faded in large part
because it was not able to come to terms with the concerns of poor and
minority communities. It is time to look closely at elements of our
educational system, particularly those elements we consider
progressive; time to see whether there is minority involvement and
support, and if not to ask why."

Delpit does not argue that teachers must share their students'
ethnicity. "I have seen too many excellent European American teachers
of African American students, and too many poor African American
teachers of African American students to come to such an illogical
conclusion," she writes. Still, she goes on to point out that the most
articulate champions in education for minority communities, teachers of
color, have not been heard within the progressive movement.

In the second chapter, "The Silenced Dialogue: Power and Pedagogy in
Educating Other People's Children," Delpit examines how
well-intentioned white progressives managed to fail so miserably with
what was intended as a liberating pedagogy for poor and minority
students. This section is essential to understanding the book's vital
message. It is a piece of great subtlety, depth, and power, and yet,
like most insights of genius, much of it seems like common sense.

Here Delpit argues that white progressives failed because they
forced their agenda on minority teachers and families, most of whom
rejected what was being offered. This happened, she writes, because
those with power are frequently unaware of, or unwilling to
acknowledge, their power. Those with less power, on the other hand,
"are often most aware of its existence," she adds.

Delpit goes on to explain, then, that the key issue is not one of
pedagogy—"the actual practice of good teachers of all colors
typically incorporates a range of pedagogical orientations"—but
one of power. It's a matter, she writes, of "whose voice gets to be
heard in determining what is best for poor children and children of
color."

"Will black teachers and parents continue to be silenced by the very
forces that claim to 'give voice' to our children?" she asks. "Such an
outcome would truly be tragic, for both groups truly have something to
say to one another."

The good news is that Other People's Children has
dramatically changed education. The growing acceptance of the parents'
role in schools, the recognition of the need for balanced pedagogy, and
the acknowledgment by many progressive educators that they can learn
from the traditional methods of African American educators are all
evidence of the book's influence.

By courageously facing up to the wrenching truths of the progressive
movement's most glaring failures, and by returning to its most
essential values—openness, inclusion, and relevance—Delpit
shows how to restore progressivism as a viable education option in the
nation's poor and minority communities.

Stephen Del Vecchio is school librarian at the Family Academy in New
York City and a contributing writer for Teacher Magazine.

Notice: We recently upgraded our comments. (Learn more here.) If you are logged in as a subscriber or registered user and already have a Display Name on edweek.org, you can post comments. If you do not already have a Display Name, please create one here.

Ground Rules for Posting
We encourage lively debate, but please be respectful of others. Profanity and personal attacks are prohibited. By commenting, you are agreeing to abide by our user agreement.
All comments are public.